


Ghostly Secrets

by UppityBitch



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, F/M, Murder Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:39:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UppityBitch/pseuds/UppityBitch
Summary: Caroline is one of the preeminent spiritualists in New Orleans, but when the ghost of a little boy asks for her help getting a message to his immensely stubborn asshat of a brother, she had no idea the number of secrets one family can have.





	1. Just Here for the Art

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new AU supernatural Klaroline multi-chap story. After many asks, I’m expanding A Beautiful Symmetry - Chapter 58: Part 4 - Klaroween Bingo, the drabble called “Ghost Stories”.

 

 

            _What artwork went best with dead people?_ Caroline smiled wryly as her sarcastic inner voice worked itself into a tizzy as it normally did whenever she shopped for a new piece. Considering how often the dead flit in and out of her home, it felt like their aesthetic should be taken into consideration. Plus, she really should consider charging rent to some of the lazier fuckers who kept overstaying their welcome. _Like the ghost of a drunken lout forever looking for his favorite Storyville brothel, flickering in and out of her place, reeking of whiskey and cigars_.

            Although, she supposed she was partly to blame, settling in the historic Faubourg Tremé neighborhood where Storyville once resided. But she’d fallen in love with the two-story Victorian, despite sensing and often seeing the spirits of the departed wandering throughout that area. _Besides, it’s not like Caroline wasn’t used to ghosts_. As one of the most sought-after spiritualists in New Orleans, she maintained an impressive list of clients who sought her insights and often asked her to act as an intermediary to the other side.

            She’d always had her gifts, but fortunately she’d grown up in New Orleans where the unusual was celebrated, so she’d never felt like an outcast. Still, she tried not to let her day job completely take over her life, which is why she’d ventured to the local art market of St. Claude’s Corridor. There was something incredibly freeing about losing herself in the work of talented local artists, and the open-air galleries always showcased the best in the region.  

            An especially vibrant oil painting of the Creole Townhouses that lined the French Quarter caught her eye; the artist had used an ingenious brush technique that delivered a three-dimensional effect to make the brick and stucco swirl off the canvas. “Are you a recent transplant, love,” purred an accented voice beside her.

            Caroline turned to see an impossibly beautiful man looking at her, his gray eyes twinkling in amusement. “You didn’t assume I was a tourist,” she asked curiously.

            “The typical tourist doesn’t venture into the Marigny and Bywater neighborhoods — they tend to stay within the Quarter,” he offered with a dimpled smile.

            “New Orleans born and raised,” she told him with a small shrug. “With that accent, I’m assuming _you’re_ the recent transplant?”

            His tone turned teasing as he lightly asked, “Is that your way of asking if I come here often, sweetheart?”

            Rolling her eyes at his obvious flirt, she gestured toward the colorful paintings and explained, “I’m just here for the art. Do you happen to know the artist of this piece?”

            “I’ve seen him around, love,” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he took a closer look at the painting she’d been studying. “Seems a bit lackluster, if you ask me. Of all the works before you, why this one?”

            Caroline stiffened slightly at his tone, and while she didn’t have any formal training in art, she still felt passionate about it and didn’t like the idea that a stranger was mocking her taste. “Why _not_ this piece? The artist chose architecture built after the two Great Fires of the late 1700s, which to me, symbolizes a rebirth or overcoming a great burden.” Gesturing at the sweeping strokes of the arched windows and ornate Spanish ironwork she explained, “The bold reds and blues seem angry to me, but the way the brushstrokes taper off gradually as they shade the bricks feel almost sad.”

            The handsome stranger’s stunned expression gave her a small sense of satisfaction. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as though reconsidering whatever he’d intended to say. Bemused, he shook his head, telling her, “Are you always so forthright, sweetheart?”

            “Only when the artist of the work I’m admiring is shamelessly fishing for compliments,” she quipped, enjoying the way the tips of his ears started to turn red in embarrassment.

            He let out a surprised bark of laughter, his voice taking on a hint of seduction that left her a bit breathless as he answered, “Then I thank you for your honesty.”

            _I should ask him for his number_. _Except I suck at reading signals. What if he’s just being flirty to score more business? No one likes being hit on at work. Don’t be the clingy weirdo who mistakes friendly for flirty, Caroline._ Favoring him with an overly bright smile, she asked, “I’d love to buy your painting if you don’t mind holding onto it for me while I finish browsing the rest of the market this morning.”

            “Of course, love. I’m honored,” he told her with a genuine grin that made her think maybe she should try to figure out a casual way to give him her number at the very least. Hyper-focused on not tripping over her sandals as she walked away in case he was watching, she briefly paused to toss a few dollars in an open guitar case where a bluesman played. He tipped his battered fedora at her, and she felt a warmth slow over her as she sensed a gentle spirit was watching over him. _A good soul_ , she surmised, wishing she encountered more like him in her city.

            New Orleans’ history was complicated, to say the least, a city stuffed full of spirits with unspeakable rage or heartbreaking sadness and even some with indescribable joy all seemed to cross her path at one time or another. When they had the presence of mind to properly manifest, they often sensed her gift and asked for her help.

            The murmur of approval from a nearby crowd drew her attention, and she realized the repurposed former auto shop on the corner was hosting a body painting pop-up event. She was mesmerized by the talented group of models’ choreography as they seamlessly formed two alligators swimming through a bayou. The gleaming scales and confident motion of the models described powerful animals whose beauty seemed to genuinely touch the growing crowd of spectators.

            Next to that stunning art installation was a considerably more macabre painted trio of models that displayed various systems of the human body — outer layers of skin stripped away to reveal red and white muscle, the intricate blue and red spiderweb structure of the cardiovascular system, and the smooth, bleached bones of a skeleton. Despite the gruesome appearance, she was strangely fascinated, and fully intended to weave through the crowd for a closer look when the boy approached her.

            He looked to be around seven or eight, his tearful eyes widening as he stood in front of her. _He was absolutely terrified_. “Please help me,” he said in a small, broken voice, “No one wants to help me.” His tears made her heart ache, but she had to remind herself not to do something foolish, like wrap him up in a hug like she desperately wished that she could.

_Because he was dead._


	2. Weighed Down His Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who sent me kind messages; I really appreciate your support!

 

            A powerful shudder went through her body. Cold seeped into her bones and refused to leave. _Fear. Her instincts were telling her to be afraid_. Quickly glancing around, Caroline couldn’t understand why she’d react this way when faced with a spirit. After all of her experience, she’d learned to quickly read a spirit’s true intentions, and the small boy in front of her wasn’t a threat. _But something dark had weighed down his soul to the point he couldn’t cross over_.  

            _She knew all about darkness in a soul_. Once, she’d been contacted by a young woman named Elena who was being haunted by a malevolent spirit with icy blue eyes. She possessed a sweet, innocent vulnerability that instantly convinced Caroline to help her, and it wasn’t until she found herself trapped in a cramped kitchen with a raging spirit and some scary-sharp knives that she realized Elena was anything but a victim. She’d told Caroline that the ghost was her fiancé’s brother who’d relentlessly pursued her despite her rejections. She’d cried such beautiful, sorrowful tears when she revealed he’d killed himself and had been terrorizing her ever since. _Of course, secrets never stay secret_ _— especially among the dead_.   

            Caroline eventually learned from the vengeful spirit that the truth was Elena had carried on a passionate affair with him and when he wanted to tell his brother, she killed him and made it look like a suicide. Instead of banishing the ghost, Caroline locked Elena in the kitchen with it and recorded her tearful confession to tip off the police. _She hadn’t lasted long in prison_. _Fake damsels in distress never did._

            And now Caroline was faced with a similar feeling of dread that surrounded this child. She quietly studied him, considering her options. She was familiar with ghosts asking her for help, but it was rare that one so young understood enough about the afterlife to recognize her gifts. Taking a calming breath, she quietly told him, “I will help you. My name’s Caroline. What’s your name?”

            “Henrik,” he answered, his mouth trembling as he tried to get his emotions under control.

            “Okay, Henrik, do you know what you need from me,” she gently asked, heart pounding as she recognized telltale signs that the boy likely had been an abused child during his short lifetime. _The way his small form jumped at random loud noises in the marketplace_. _How he shrank into himself at the sound of a raised male voice from a crowd nearby._ She’d already made up her mind that once Henrik’s spirit was at rest, she planned to get revenge on whatever coldhearted bastard had hurt him.

            Sniffling, the boy said, “I need to tell my brother, Nik, something. It’s important.”

            She casually moved to a quiet corner next to a closed barber shop and pulled out her phone, pretending to be talking on it so passersby wouldn’t think she was talking to herself. Nodding in understanding, she replied, “Okay, I can help you deliver your message. Do you know where I can find Nik?”          

            Henrik eagerly pointed down the block and Caroline’s heart sank a bit when she realized that he was looking at the attractive, dimpled stranger she’d been flirting with just moments before. _Damn. And she’d been looking forward to scaring him off with her abysmal dating skills after their potential, clumsily implied date, not before it._ “That’s him,” Henrik explained, stomping his sneakers in frustration, “I’ve been trying to talk to him for so long and he just won’t listen.”

            “But I can talk to him, Henrik, and I promise I’ll make him listen,” Caroline swore to him, steeling herself for the next phase. As part of her process, she had to absorb a bit of the spirit’s energy, not only to keep them on this plane while she spoke with their loved one, but also so that they could communicate crucial details that would help smooth over the skepticism she tended to receive. As she completed her task, she watched Nik, secretly pleased that he was part of the small artist community here — a creative soul tended to be more open to the ethereal and less likely to be stubborn about things they knew nothing about.

            As she walked back to the curly-haired stranger, she wasn’t sure what to make of the small blush that stained her cheeks as she saw the way his gray eyes lit up with interest when she approached him. “Hi, again. Um, Nik,” she said hesitantly, “I have a message for you.”

            The attractive, somewhat cocky expression on his handsome face slowly evaporated as he said, “It’s _Klaus_ , actually. Only family calls me _Nik_.”

            Rolling her eyes, she said, “Yeah, I know. The message is from your brother.”

            “You know Elijah,” he asked curiously, flicking his gaze at her with a bit more interest as he said with a wry grin, “You appear to be a bit more laidback and _creative_ than what I’m used to seeing dangling upon my uptight brother’s arm, sweetheart.”

            She refused to be distracted by the silly thought that his voice carried a slight hint of disappointment that she might be involved with his brother. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she glanced down at her loose floral sundress topped off with a worn denim vest, and defensively answered, “This is my favorite outfit and I look really cute in it and I can assure you I don’t _dangle_!” She could tell from the way his eyes lit up in amusement, he likely was gearing up for some teasing banter that she normally couldn’t resist, but she glanced over at Henrik’s bittersweet smile, and remembered why she was there.

            She held up her hand to stop whatever Klaus was getting ready to say, and told him in a serious tone. “I don’t know your brother, Elijah. Actually, I know Henrik. He approached me just now and needs me to deliver his message.”

            “My little brother has been dead for years,” Klaus growled, his handsome face suddenly closed off and suspicious. “Whatever you’re after, you won’t find here. New Orleans is full of disgusting charlatans like you.”

            Caroline hated the way her eyes watered at his ugly accusations. As Klaus stood there, surrounded by his vibrant display of oil paintings filled with such frail beauty, she didn’t understand how someone so handsome could be so hideous on the inside. “My name is Caroline Forbes, and I’m a professional spiritualist, not a fake, or an opportunist, or any other mean-spirited word you want to call me. Henrik recognized my abilities and asked for my help, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

            He snorted in derision, “What abilities might those be, Miss Cleo? How to swindle people out of their money because you’re too lazy to get a real job?”

            “Seriously?! I’ll have you know people who aren’t close-minded asshats appreciate my help. They _beg_ me for my help!” At Klaus’ condescending smirk, she felt her temper flare, and was relieved to see that Henrik had faded away for the moment. She abandoned her initial plan of trying to ease him into this admittedly bizarre situation and instead bitch-slapped him with some truths. “When you were 14, you had so much catnip in your room that when your mother found it, you lied and said you’d found a litter of kittens. And when you figured out you couldn’t get high off that, you stole the nutmeg from the kitchen.” At his indignant gasp and reddened ears, she winked and added, “Although from what I’ve heard, what’s stuffed in the average spice rack would barely get a toddler stoned.”   

            “Utter nonsense,” he muttered angrily, the flush of embarrassment spreading.

            Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small crowd had started to gather, and she tried to get a handle on that Forbes’ temper of hers. Lowering her voice, she urged him quietly, “Let’s go somewhere more private to discuss this, hmm?”

            Klaus icily replied, “Not necessary. This conversation is over.”

            “Fine. Henrik also told me about how you used to hide your drawings in the attic after your father stepped on your hand until most of your fingers were broken because he said art was a waste of time.”

            He reared back as though she’d slapped him, and for a fleeting moment, she felt awful, but then, that mocking smirk of his returned when he accused, “Clearly, you’ve been stalking my family in a preposterous attempt to bleed money from me as I buy into this bloody ghost nonsense. Rest assured, love, the only _proof_ of your gifts you’ve shown is that you’re incredibly foolish to perpetrate fraud with a police officer.”

            _And that was when the handcuffs came out_.


	3. It Was You, Wasn’t It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sending me such great comments! Also, special thanks to KawaiiKitsune13 for the great idea about Caroline being on a first-name basis with the cops at Klaus’ precinct (unbeknownst to Klaus). I took your idea and ran with it — I really hope you like what I created!

_He’d purposely put the handcuffs on too tight. Dimpled bastard._ Caroline had worn handcuffs a few times in her life (sometimes for fun reasons, and maybe once or twice for irritating situations like this), and she realized that Klaus was going out of his way to try to intimidate her with the tight cuffs, angry scowls, and hostile comments about how he’d ‘sent for a patrol car to pick her up’ and ‘she’d be booked at the station.’

            It had been a surprise to learn that ‘brooding artist’ was just a hobby for Klaus and that he was actually a New Orleans police detective. Despite her irritation at this narrow-minded asshat, she couldn’t help but admire the powerful lines of his body. _And that face_. So much barely controlled rage hidden behind such a beautiful face.

            Caroline could feel her own temper flare at his smug grin when the blue and white patrol car arrived. He gave a short nod to the officer and said, “Officer Donovan, right on time. This shameless _grifter_ needs to be taken down to the station. I’ll be along shortly to give my statement.”

            She did her best to tuck in her small grin as she saw the way the officer’s innocent blue eyes lit up excitedly as he recognized her. “Hi Matty,” she said cheerfully.

            “Caroline? I didn’t realize when I answered the call that it would be you,” Officer Donovan said with a sheepish smile. He frowned when he noticed her cuffs. “Those look too tight. Let me get that for you.”

            He adjusted the cuffs with a few small clicks, and then turned to Klaus with a disproving frown. “Is this really necessary, Detective Mikaelson? I’ve known Caroline for a while now — surely this is some misunderstanding?”

            Klaus looked completely flabbergasted, and Caroline enjoyed watching his jaw tighten as he impatiently rubbed at his temple. “I didn’t realize you were involved with the suspect, Officer Donovan. My sincerest apologies for inadvertently creating a conflict of interest for you.”

            Caroline snorted, “It’s not like that, you presumptuous jackass. Matty’s sister found me a few years ago and I facilitated a few important conversations.”

            “Bollocks!” Klaus exploded, glaring at the young man. “Don’t tell me you fell for a few tacky ghost stories.”

            There was an angry flush to Officer Donovan’s cheeks as he answered sharply. “My sister, Vicki, OD’d. Caroline helped us say good-bye.”

            Caroline shook her head, angry at Klaus for mocking things he didn’t understand. Underneath Matt’s outburst, she could hear his pain, and she quickly interrupted before Klaus could do more harm. “Can we just get this over with, Klaus? Take me to the station and book me or whatever it is you need to do to feel like a big man, ok?”

            Matt threw Caroline a sympathetic look as he placed her in the back of the car, pointedly ignoring Klaus, who had climbed into the passenger seat. After that, the ride to the station was filled with so much awkward tension, she couldn’t even properly enjoy Klaus’ aggravation that the officer he’d called thought so highly of her. _Just wait until we get to the station,_ she thought with a smug grin.

* * *

 

            While Klaus hauled her into the station with a swagger in his step, the smirk fell off of his face the instant Anna excitedly waved at Caroline. She nodded her head, recalling with a smile the bittersweet moment she was able to reunite the deceptively tiny but incredibly strong officer with her mother’s long-lost spirit.

            Klaus had just finished grumbling under his breath when another officer poked his head out of his cubical to frown worriedly at Caroline. “Gorgeous, got yourself in a bind there, eh?”

            She smiled, pleased to see another friendly face given the fact that Klaus was pushing her into an interrogation room. “It’s fine, Enzo. Just one of my usual misunderstandings with an inconsiderate asshat.” She sent a glare in Klaus’ direction, whose neck was an angry red at the attention she was receiving among his colleagues. She felt a warmth flow over her as she saw how well Enzo was doing these days. He’d been in a dark, angry place over the loss of his beloved Maggie when Caroline found him. His downward spiral of alcohol abuse and violent bar fights had led him to a suspension from the force that was starting to look permanent before she came along.

            Maggie was one of the most persistent ghosts she’d ever come across, and her pleas that she seek out Enzo before he completely destroyed himself over her death were too heartbreaking to ignore. It had been one of the most emotionally draining spiritual encounters she’d ever experienced, but once Enzo had gotten over his skepticism and suspicions about her motives, he was able to connect with Maggie in a beautiful way that allowed her spirit to finally move on and bring him the closure he needed to start putting his life back in order.

            Enzo suddenly stood in front of Klaus, blocking his path as he peered around to look at Caroline. His tone was laced with concern as he asked her, “You want me to call over to the Salvatores’? Lily’s my best mate and she’ll make sure to set you up with the best.”

            “Bloody hell, get back to work, Officer St. John,” Klaus snapped at him, stepping around him as he pulled Caroline along.

            Caroline smiled gratefully at Enzo, murmuring, “No thanks, Enzo. I have a feeling this won’t take long.” She was impressed by Enzo’s offer — the Salvatores ran the largest legal firm in the state, and Lily Salvatore was the founder, commanding a powerhouse of lawyers who made even the most well-insulated CEO or politician tremble in fear.

            She sat down in a hard metal chair inside the small room, rattling the chain between her wrists in annoyance as she told Klaus, “These handcuffs are starting to chafe, you know.”

            “But I thought your best mate _Matty_ helped you out with those earlier? Or perhaps Anna or Enzo might lend you a hand,” he retorted. “Tell me, sweetheart, is there anyone at this station who hasn’t fallen for your pathetic ghost stories?”

            _Ugh. This again_. She rolled her eyes. “Look, just because you’re emotionally closed off from the spiritual plane doesn’t mean everyone is. We don’t all have to believe in the same things to have a fully functioning society.”

            With an aggravated sigh, Klaus finally unlocked her handcuffs, telling her, “Right, well, sit here while I go determine what you _really_ believe in.”

            Before he could shut the door on his way out, she called after him, “And you still owe me that painting I picked out!”

            Caroline huffed in annoyance, glancing at the one-way mirror where she was sure she was being watched by the ungrateful detective on his way to no doubt run an extensive background check on her.

            She inwardly cringed as she wondered what he’d think about that time she was arrested for dancing naked among the jazz statues in Louis Armstrong Park. In her defense, she never backed down from a dare, and also, jazz musician spirits were hard to resist when they begged her to dance to their music.

            When Klaus finally returned, his voice was mocking as he commented, “You’ve quite the colorful past, Caroline. Public nudity, grave robbing, disturbing the peace — in all your brushes with the law, it didn’t occur to you what poor judgement it shows to try to con a police officer?”

            Caroline groaned, “That charge was total bullshit! The bokor wouldn’t leave me alone until I broke into his crypt to find his talisman and give it to his daughter. Voodoo shamans are insistent fuckers — especially after they’re dead,” she confessed.

            Klaus snorted in derision. “Despite the utter nonsense of your so-called profession, you mark an impressive list of influential clients from local celebrities to politicians.”

            _He had no idea_ , Caroline smirked inwardly. Since word had gotten around about her, she’d advised three different Oscar winners and a foreign prince. She didn’t have to prove she was real — it was already known. She could feel Henrik’s presence in the room, the inevitable chill a spirit brought was something she’d never fully get used to, but she was angry enough at his stubborn asshat of a brother that she stayed warm.

            “Look, I get that you refuse to believe in things you can’t see, but I’ve given you details about your family life that no one else could have known. Surely that makes you want to open your mind to alternative possibilities,” she entreated, trying to keep her tone even and matter-of-fact. “Henrik told me how all of you were terrified of your abusive father, Mikael. How you’d hide him in the treehouse you built at the edge of the woods whenever your father’s temper would get so bad that you all feared for your lives.”

            “Bloody useless considering I failed to keep him safe,” Klaus muttered, a faraway look in his eye. Shaking himself, he glared at her once more. “This proves nothing. You’re a fake, Caroline. Admit that you’re only doing this to sabotage Elijah’s mayoral campaign. This is just the type of dirty, underhanded tactics the Lockwoods would stoop to!”

            Caroline sighed loudly, throwing her blonde head back as she stared hopelessly at the stained tile ceiling. _They were getting nowhere_. “Henrik wants me to give you a message and I’m not going away until you listen to what your brother has to say, damn it.”

            “Well, then, what’s the bloody message,” he asked in exasperation, running his fingers tiredly through his dirty blonde curls.

            She bit her lip, looking down at her hands as though they might have the answer. “I’m not exactly sure,” she confessed in a small voice. “He’s been a little vague on the exact details of the message so far. Just that it’s important you listen to him.” She shivered suddenly as she felt Henrik’s presence a bit more strongly than before. “There’s a feeling I get off of him that’s more unsettled than many of the spirits I deal with. He’s clearly a frightened child with a horrific past, but there’s something else. Whatever’s going on, it’s incredibly dark and the poor kid is still afraid even after all of these years.”

            Caroline hated how her words seemed to cause Klaus more pain. Clearly the loss of his little brother, despite the passage of time, still weighed heavily on him. She told him softly, “Maybe his message is more about helping you find peace? He knows you feel guilty for being away from home the night he was killed. I’m sure he knows that it wasn’t your fault. Mikael was a truly evil soul and if he wasn’t already dead, I would be happy to call in a few favors on Henrik’s behalf.”

            He started to say something, but was interrupted when a perfectly coiffed, dark-headed man opened the door. His suit was impeccably tailored, and Caroline immediately felt the need to straighten her posture and stop chewing gum in his no-nonsense presence. “Niklaus,” the man said impatiently, “we do not need to encourage such ridiculous drivel. Release this riffraff back to the streets where she belongs.”

            Frowning, Klaus addressed the man with an impatient wave of his hand. “Elijah, this is my precinct and I will conduct this investigation as I see fit.”

            Henrik’s spirit suddenly flooded her mind, his terror making her heart race as she processed what he was trying to tell her. When she finally was coherent enough to speak, she leveled her icy gaze to Elijah and said, “All this time, I assumed it was Mikael. But it was you, wasn’t it, Elijah?”


	4. Pure Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with my story and sending me your reviews!

 

            Caroline swore that Klaus and Elijah were channeling every stuffy Jane Austen character she’d ever read. Elijah’s impersonation of supremely bitchy Lady Catherine was definitely her favorite, but Klaus’ self-righteous indignation of Mrs. Norris was a close second. From the moment she revealed that Henrik had told her the truth — that it was Elijah who had murdered him — the interrogation room had exploded with the brothers’ anger.

            “What utter nonsense is this?! You’re nothing more than an unscrupulous tart, out to harm the Mikaelsons’ good name,” Elijah sneered.

            The arrogance of his tone was nothing she hadn’t heard before from others, but now that she’s spoken the truth of Henrik’s spirit, she could sense the darkness behind that well-groomed visage. There was an eerily calm calculation to his gaze, as though he was still deciding whether she was a threat.

            A rapid knock on the interrogation room door surprised the group, and Matt stuck his head inside, his innocent blue gaze flitting to Caroline as though checking on her. He awkwardly mumbled, “Detective Mikaelson, there’s uh...these backlogged Citizen Report Forms...and I wanted to ask you...uh where they should be filed.”

            Klaus raised a questioning eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he told him, “We file them according to incident and send them down to processing — just as we’ve always done, Officer Donovan. Since you were trained on the exact procedures more than _five years ago_. And that you’ve followed _every day_ since.”

            Matt didn’t bother acknowledging Klaus’ cutting comments as he ducked his head, cheeks a bit flushed. He gave Caroline a sweet, embarrassed smile before shutting the door on his way out.

            “Bye Matty,” she merrily called out, earning the same irritated grimace from both brothers. She straightened her spine and leveled both of them with her most defiant glare. She refused to be intimidated, even though Elijah made her skin crawl. _Elijah was dangerous_. The frantic cries of Henrik’s ghost had faded somewhat, and now it was mostly a steady hum of anxious energy. While it made her nervous, she kept her focus. _She wanted to be strong for Henrik_.

            Klaus slammed his palms against the table, causing her to jump slightly. “Damn it, say something, Caroline!”

            “I already did,” she answered icily. “You just didn’t like what I had to say.”

            He scoffed, raking his fingers through his curls. “Because it’s rubbish! Henrik isn’t in this room whispering sordid little details to you about our family.” She was surprised by how much it stung to experience that steely glare of his directed at her as he sternly declared, “And to accuse Elijah of harming our baby brother is pure madness.”

            Elijah patted him on the shoulder, not once taking his dismissive gaze from Caroline. “It’s not necessary to defend me, Niklaus. Whatever deplorable lies this cheap person tells cannot harm our family. _We won’t let her_.”

            The icy flash of fear from Henrik was back at the hard edge of Elijah’s voice. Caroline did her best not to recoil at the little boy’s terror; only a slight tremor in her fingers revealed her distress. “And I won’t let you get away with what you did to Henrik,” she swore, taking pleasure at the sight of sweat near Elijah’s otherwise perfectly groomed hairline. _He was afraid. Good_.    

            Klaus started to say something, but was interrupted by the door loudly banging open a second time. When he saw Enzo standing at the threshold, he acidly inquired, “Let me guess, there’s yet another question about the backlogged Citizen Report Forms, Officer St. John?”

            “Nope,” Enzo answered cheerfully, rolling a large, overstuffed office chair into the room. He jerked his dark head at the hard metal chair Caroline was sitting on, telling her, “I came to offer our guest a bit of Southern hospitality since Detective Mikaelson seems to have forgotten his manners.” He then helped her into the comfy chair, giving her a silly, sweeping bow as he asked, “Need me to get you anything else, gorgeous?” As she shook her head, his tone tuned softer and a bit serious as he asked, “You’re ok, though?”

            Caroline was touched by Enzo’s concern, and she favored him with a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, really. But thank you for checking on me.”

            “Out, Detective St. John,” Klaus growled at Enzo, impatiently pointing toward the door. With a final wink at Caroline that seemed to make Klaus even grouchier, Enzo left, and the interrogation room was full of tension once again.   

            Klaus abruptly told her, “You never did answer my initial accusation — that all of this is some obscene plot concocted by those foul Lockwoods — they’re furious that Elijah’s running a successful mayoral campaign against Richard Lockwood.”

            She felt her temper flare once more at Klaus’ suspicious tone as he accused her of working with the Lockwoods. She curled her fist so hard the knuckles cracked, and she took a calming breath before she answered briskly, “When it comes to the unapologetically selfish, my gifts aren’t for sale.” She recalled with disdain the half-dozen times the various members of the Lockwood family had approached her, wanting to exploit her gifts for frivolous, selfish reasons. _The dead were not for sale. And neither was she_.

            While Klaus raised an intrigued eyebrow at her vehement declaration, Elijah’s demeanor remained cold and calculating. “Regardless of this rubbish charlatan’s motivations for spreading these lies about our beloved brother, it’s of no concern. You’ll release her back to the streets where she belongs, Niklaus, and then we’ll bring a defamation suit against her.” A disquieting smile crept across his face as he added, “As for the Lockwoods, well, we certainly can address their _shortcomings_ as necessary.”

            Caroline could have sworn she saw the slightest unease on Klaus’ face at Elijah’s malicious tone. Whatever she saw was fleeting, however, and his patented scowl quickly returned. With a fierce glint in his gaze, he acidly spat, “You heard my brother, love. You’re free to go — but I suggest you carefully consider your options before coming after my family again.”

            An ugly retort was on the tip of her tongue, but Henrik’s spirit tugged at her, and she felt his sweet, sad smile so deeply that she didn’t want to put up a fight at the moment. _But that didn’t mean she’d stop fighting for Henrik_.

* * *

 

            Despite their vast years of experience with this _exact_ situation, the gang still decided to split up after they rammed their speedboat into the ghost pirate ship. “Honestly, Fred,” Caroline groaned at her TV screen, “There’s no way the ghost pirates didn’t hear you loudly detailing your entire plan to catch them.”

            She indulged in an extra big gulp of merlot, savoring the spicy blend. It had been several days since Klaus had arrested her, and she’d decided to hole up in her house to regroup, but more importantly, to recharge from her ordeal. She knew she’d have to come up with a plan to avenge Henrik, as well as help him find peace, but the spirit world kept whispering that she needed to wait. _That it wasn’t quite time_.

            So, she’d been biding her time the best way she knew how — treating herself to some of the pricier wine bottles in her stash along with her super-serious cheering-up snack, dark chocolate caramel cookie popcorn, while she marathoned classic _Scooby-Doo_ episodes. She happily cheered at the TV: “Nicely done with the paper hat! There’s no way the clueless henchmen will guess you’re not their pirate leader. You’re my hero, Shaggy!”

            Her doorbell rang just as the gang found a crucial clue on Shaggy’s hat, and she stomped across the parlor, fully prepared to curse at whoever was interrupting her sacred Scooby time. “Make it good,” she warned, flinging open the front door.

            An uncomfortable-looking Klaus stood on her porch, gray eyes darting back and forth uncertainly, and she wondered how long he’d stared at her door before finally working up the nerve to ring the bell. As they looked at each other awkwardly, she impatiently asked, “So, serving a warrant or is this a social visit?”

            He winced at her cutting words, briefly bending down to pick up a rectangular package he’d rested against the decorative iron railing. He wordlessly handed it to her, and as she ripped open the brown paper wrapping, she let out a small squeal of delight as she recognized the bold reds and blues from his painting that she’d picked out at the art market where they first met.

            She felt herself grow warm at his unexpected gesture. _Klaus had brought her a peace offering_.


	5. Twists the Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of child abuse as Caroline receives more memories from Henrik.

 

 

            While Caroline was intrigued by Klaus appearing on her doorstep (bearing a gift no less), it still pissed her off that he was interrupting sacred Scooby time. Apparently, her irritation was all over her face as Klaus uncertainly shuffled his feet and asked awkwardly, “May I come in?”

            She jerked her chin toward the painting she held, warning him, “Yeah, but this only buys you about 10 minutes of interrupting my sacred Scooby time, so either talk fast or make it so good I’m inclined to be more generous.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she immediately wanted to shove them back in there at the unexpected innuendo. _Damn it, stop inadvertently propositioning this asshat_.

            “I take it this means you still wanted my painting then?” At her noncommittal shrug, he added, “And what’s this about _sacred Scooby time_?”

            She waved him into the parlor, carefully leaning his painting against the bead board paneling before gesturing toward her screen where the Scooby gang finally stopped running from the ghost pirates and captured their leader. She gleefully told him, “I knew it — Redbeard was that shady company owner the whole time. No way are _real_ ghost pirates that inept.”

            Raising a skeptical eyebrow, he questioned, “Have you had much interaction with actual ghost pirates or have the all been of the _Scooby Doo_ persuasion?”

            She considered him, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she observed, “Interesting choice — using your allotted 10 minutes to mock my sacred Scooby time.” Shrugging, she added, “And I assume Jean Lafitte’s spirit is at rest — or maybe just not interested in my help. But I’ve traveled to other coastal regions.” She couldn’t help the slight shiver as she remembered a close call with several souls so full of rage, they were more violent energy than spirits. “The sea often twists the soul more than it soothes,” she finished darkly. Rattled by her thoughts, she switched off her _Scooby_ marathon, fixing him with a pointed look.

            Seeming to understand that she still considered the length of his visit uncertain, he mumbled, “I need your help.”

            Not caring that her mouth flopped open in surprise, Caroline wandered over to the sleek black cabinet, pulling out a wine glass and filling it to the brim with the rest of the bottle of merlot. She handed it to him with a sigh. “Then, it sounds like you’ll need this.” Gesturing for him to sit down beside her on the couch, she set another bottle of wine on the side table — they would probably need it.

            Klaus raised his glass in her direction, taking a grateful gulp. “Do you have many visitors, love?” At her confused expression, he awkwardly mumbled, “Perhaps from Matt or Enzo or...somebody.”

            Caroline felt herself grow warm at his clumsy words. _Was Klaus fishing to see if she was available?_ “I don’t schedule appointments here — between this house and the historic neighborhood, it’s already full of ghosts before a client adds their own spiritual baggage. I tend to make house calls instead.”

            It was endearing the way his gray eyes darted around the parlor, as though he suddenly could see ghosts. She wrinkled her nose a bit as she noticed a faint whiff of rye whiskey and cigar smoke, which usually signaled that her resident drunken ghost would wander through, still looking for his favorite Storyville brothel, but Klaus’ presence seemed to have scared off Silas for now.

            “My gifts can be pretty intense for people; sometimes after a shared experience helping a loved one cross over, it can create a bond. Both Matt and Enzo had very emotional spiritual events and our friendship evolved from that,” she explained. Catching his eye, she made sure to emphasize her next words: “ _Just_ friends.”

            He seemed to brighten visibly at her words, a hint of his flirt from their first meeting creeping into his tone as he rumbled, “Good to know, sweetheart.”

            They sat in silence for a bit, Caroline opening the bottle beside them to top off their glasses. A wave of melancholy crept back into his features as he unexpectedly said, “Mine was a family who had everything and nothing all at once. Immense wealth and status, but also crippling neglect and fear.”

            Caroline’s heart ached at the naked pain she saw reflected in his gaze. During her career as a spiritualist, at times she’d seen human nature at its darkest, but the small window into the Mikaelsons that Henrik had provided was enough to make her question humanity. _Such_ _lost, angry,_ _broken people._

“I don’t speak of what we faced in that house — none of us do. Our other siblings scattered to the ends of the earth and never looked back,” he confessed.  

            Her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “Do you ever visit them? A vacation in Australia, India, Norway or Thailand sounds exciting — especially when you have a tour guide who’s a local.” At his surprised expression, she softly reminded him, “You may not be able to see or feel his presence, but Henrik watches over his brothers and sisters.”

            Klaus shifted uncomfortably, clearly not ready to acknowledge how she knew these things about his siblings. He finally said, “We haven’t seen each other in years. There’s been too much...” he trailed off, shaking his head sadly. “Elijah was somehow excused from much of the cruelty the rest of us faced. Every school achievement earned him praise or at least begrudging indifference from Mikael.” A harsh laugh escaped him. “In that house, indifference was the best most of us could hope for when it came to our father’s wrath.”

            Caroline felt Henrik’s presence once more, the crushing fear returning with a vengeance and she unwillingly was pulled into one of his memories. _There was an immense, angry shadow that she assumed to be Mikael, looming over a teenage Elijah. He looked absolutely terrified and his then-lanky body hunched protectively into itself as it anticipated the onslaught of his father’s fists. The words were muffled, but filled with rage and she winced as the first of many blows caught Elijah under his chin and sent his head rocking back with a loud snap_. She quickly summoned the energy to will herself out of that dark memory, rubbing her temples at the familiar headache that often accompanied the more intense spiritual encounters. She noticed that Klaus was looking at her with open curiosity and possibly a bit of concern.

            Realizing that Henrik was trying to tell her something, she gently questioned, “But Elijah wasn’t always so fortunate, was he? At least once, Mikael directed his rage at him when he was a teenager, maybe 16 or 17?”

            His gray eyes widened at her words, and he once again seemed to search the room, as though looking for a reasonable explanation for her insight. He nodded, telling her, “He was 17. He’d always been the model son, the perfect embodiment of a Mikaelson — according to our father. The one time Elijah decided to rebel was over a girl who lived in West Lake Forest. Mikal found out that his golden progeny was cavorting with what he considered to be a low-class girl from an inferior family, and refused to allow Elijah to ruin the family name. My brother used to sneak out of the house to see Katherine; it had all the makings of a Shakespearian tragedy even before Mikael caught him and then beat him so soundly, I don’t think I heard the poor girl’s name spoken ever again. Elijah quickly reverted to his straight-laced, perfect son mannerisms and our miserable lives somehow carried on. I’ve always admired his pragmatic detachment when it comes to our childhood trauma.”   

She watched Klaus carefully scan the room again and she inwardly sighed. _Stubborn man. Just ask about Henrik already. You know you want to_. “Klaus, you said you’re here for my help. But it’s obvious you still trust Elijah, so why are you really here?” She noticed a small muscle twitch along his jaw. Eyes narrowed she asked suspiciously, “Something’s happened. What is it?”

            He slowly nodded, then set down his empty glass. With a small sigh, he ran both hands through his dirty blonde curls, staring off into space. He brokenly said, “What if I’m starting to believe you?”


	6. So Much for Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Expect some Klaroline sexy times...

 

            _It was the look of a broken belief system_. It was heartbreaking for Caroline to watch, but an all-too-common occurrence in her line of work. What she showed people tended to rock the foundation of their ordinary lives, and rarely were they ever the same. That was what she saw as she studied the tense lines of Klaus’ frame; if he was wound any tighter, he’d probably shatter the empty wine glass he was holding.

            She topped off his glass, noting that there was a slight wobble to her walk which indicated she should probably slow down with her own drinking if she was going to be any use — spirits tended to be harder to read if she was drunk. “You said you’re starting to believe me — what changed your mind?”

            Clenching his jaw, the steel in his gray eyes flared. “I didn’t have any intention of believing you. Family above all. As much as I wanted to speak with Henrik one more time, I refused to put my faith in something so preposterous.” He sighed, staring off into the distance. Finally, he revealed, “Elijah quietly has arranged to have our old childhood home demolished later this week. It’s sat vacant since the family moved out right after Henrik’s death. And he’s _never_ shown an interest in that horrible place in all these years.” A strangled laugh escaped him as he spat, “ _So much for family above all_.”

            Caroline’s thoughts raced at Klaus’ words. Clearly, Elijah was worried about something. _This was why the spirit world had insisted she wait to do something to avenge Henrik — that it wasn’t quite time_. _What was Elijah hiding in the family home that had him so scared? Evidence that linked him to Henrik’s death? Or, something else?_ She sat beside him, squeezing his hand gently. “Klaus, I’m sorry. Everything you’re going through — I wish there’d been another way.”

            She hated how broken he looked. When he took another ragged breath, her own chest hurt. “What does it even mean,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you know? Did...did Henrik tell you something?”

            Caroline shook her head. “Henrik’s been unable to give me details. It’s possible he doesn’t have them — when a spirit leaves its body, the trauma can be disorienting. And when the death is violent, sometimes the spirit never fully remembers what happened.” She shuddered, thinking back to the icy terror that often followed Henrik’s fleeting appearances. “Probably for the best,” she muttered.

            She saw the way his skin paled, the slight furrow in his brow, and she knew he must be conjuring terrible images of what Henrik’s final moments might’ve been like.

            “Obviously, Elijah’s afraid. There’s a connection with that house he wants to destroy. We need to figure out what it is.” Klaus finally met her gaze with such intensity, it was nearly feral. “For Henrik,” he said firmly,

            “For Henrik,” she agreed solemnly, grasping both of his hands with hers. The silence that followed their vow wasn’t entirely comfortable, but she couldn’t deny the clear shift of things between them. She could feel the potential for something _more_.

            From the slight trembling of his lips, it was clear he was trying his best not to break down. She didn’t know if it was the pain of losing Henrik, Elijah’s betrayal or those awful childhood memories that always must be close to the surface for him, but his emotions were overwhelming him and still he fought to remain stoic. _Strong, stubborn man_.

            Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the painting he brought her and decided to give him a much-needed distraction. “You’re a creator, Klaus. And I’m so envious of your talent.” She beamed at him, gesturing toward the vibrant painting. “Your art is alive and I think that’s why I was drawn to it that day — I needed to feel something vibrant.”

            He shook his head, blinking a bit, and despite the way his eyes had grown misty, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re very kind, love.” He seemed lost in the brilliant reds and blues of his work, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft, and uncharacteristically shy. “You caught my eye right away, of course. Your blonde curls dancing in the sun, and the way those blue eyes narrowed when you realized I was shamelessly fishing for compliments about my work. But then, with everything that followed, I was so angry that I did my best to put you out of my mind.”

            Letting out an exasperated sigh, he confessed, “Of course, that just meant I couldn’t seem to stop sketching you these past few days.” Glancing quickly at her, he winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

            Caroline felt her heart race at his confession. _Klaus had been sketching her?_ He’d made her into art. _His art_. “No! I mean, it’s ok...I don’t mind. Actually, no one’s ever...” she trailed off awkwardly, feeling an embarrassed flush creep across her cheeks.

            “That’s positively criminal, sweetheart.” He leaned close, telling her, “Perhaps you’d consider letting me paint you sometime?”

            She was charmed by the slight hesitation in his voice — in all of their interactions, he’d been so cocky, it was a bit jarring to see him this way. “Does that line actually work,” she asked with a giggle. As Klaus started to pull away, his handsome face registering disappointment, Caroline impulsively pressed her lips to his, startling them both with the urgency that flowed between them.

            She leaned into the weight of his hands, surprised by the steadiness she found there in this moment. When they slid up her thighs to fiddle with the drawstring on her pajama pants, she momentarily wished they weren’t fuzzy and pink, but the second he brushed his fingers across her belly, she no longer cared.

            Releasing a soft moan against his lips, she pulled the black Henley over his head, ruffling his dirty blonde curls. He echoed that sentiment of urgency, tossing her comfy t-shirt behind the couch. Latching his lips to her nipple, the teasing suction he applied sent her reeling.

            Impatient fingers fumbled at his belt, the sensual snap of leather electrifying the air. She’d barely pulled down his zipper and Klaus already was grinding his pelvis against hers, rubbing slow circles that made her dizzy with want. Grumbling at the uncomfortable number of clothes that still remained between them, Caroline grasped his hips, shoving down his jeans the rest of the way.

            Klaus groaned against her breasts, releasing the nipple he’d been ruthlessly teasing to trail burning kisses down her flesh. He lifted his gaze to capture hers, the fire she found there filling her with a recklessness that had her moaning his name as he stripped her bare. She excitedly parted her thighs, that first press of his fingers making her shiver excitedly.

            “You purr so sweetly,” he rumbled, toying with her folds before dipping them into her aching core. His strokes were masterful, and she rode his fingers, increasing the rhythm to chase that amazing high.

            He eagerly lapped at the slickness he found, groaning against her bucking thighs until she demanded, “In me. _Now_.”

            Gray eyes darkening with lust, he rose to his feet, wrapping her legs around his waist. There was no more teasing in that devilish smirk, only the smooth thrust of his cock as he filled her. Her vision went white with the press of his flesh to hers and she arched her back against the delicious velvet ride that Klaus’ driving hips was taking her. She felt every flex of his beautiful body, the sensual way his muscles gave themselves over to bring her pleasure.

            With a guttural groan, he shouted her name, spilling into her as he rode them to that golden moment that somehow felt like both an end and another beginning.

            Caroline welcomed the warmth of his chest as he collapsed against her, his heavy breathing matching hers. She couldn’t quite define the contemplative look he gave her, but if the shadows in his gaze were any indication, his anguish over Henrik and Elijah already was creeping back into his mind. She shared a tentative smile with him, and despite the dark circumstances that had pulled them together, it felt as though there was a burgeoning sweetness between them that was worth exploring.      

            Suddenly, Klaus froze, a look of panic gracing his handsome features as he asked worriedly, “Did anything...er...anyone see that?” Scrunching his eyebrows together, he quickly glanced around the room, adding, “I mean, um, we’re alone, right?”

            She couldn’t stop her giggles, and then both were laughing hysterically as they clung to each other. Once she caught her breath, she explained, “Spiritual energy exists on a different plane than ours. They can cross over, but it takes an extraordinary amount of energy for them to interact with our world. While some spiritualists like me can see apparitions fairly often, it’s rare that they actually can see us.” His look of relief was comical, and she lightly kissed one of his dimples. “Feel better now?”

            “Immeasurably.”

            _As lovely as it would’ve been to stay in that moment, they both could the feel weight of what needed to be done_. Exchanging a wary glance, Caroline went to find something other than her pajamas to wear while Klaus pulled on his jeans.

* * *

 

            The drive to the Garden District was tense, and other than the occasional fretful hand squeeze, they barely spoke. She was far too distracted to even appreciate the austere beauty of the mansions that lined the streets, artistically framed with ornate iron fences and majestic magnolia and cypress trees. Even before they pulled into the brick-lined driveway, she knew it was Klaus’ former home.

            She couldn’t deny that the Mikaelsons had ensured their property was maintained over the years, but despite the perfectly manicured lawn and gleaming picture windows, something was _off_. A sinister cold sank into her bones and she couldn’t stop shaking as they made their way to the tall, arched doors underneath the portico.

            “Are you ready love?”

            Caroline took a deep breath, doing her best to control her shaking hands. She didn’t know what they’d learn once they went inside — It was possible there might not be anything left to find.

            She nodded, but then saw how Klaus had visibly paled as he stared at the door key in his hand and worriedly asked him, “Are you?”

            “Time to find out.”

            Giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, she crossed the threshold. _And immediately began to scream_.


	7. Chaotic. Volatile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Thank you for all of your kind reviews; it’s really rewarding to see so many of you are still enjoying my story. I also started a new Klaroline multi-chap called A Pregnant Pause; I’d love for you to check it out if you’re interested! 
> 
> Warning: This will be an intense chapter with mentions of child abuse as Caroline receives more memories from Henrik.

 

 

            _The voices. So. many. voices_. They came in waves, icy and vicious and unrelenting. And the emotions were overwhelming — bitter and angry, intimidated and terrified — not to mention the desperate need for vengeance. As Caroline’s body slowly acclimated to the powerful psychic vibrations, she realized that Klaus was rocking her gently on the massive stone floor.    

            He whispered gruffly in her ear, “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

            The gentleness of his voice made tears prick at her eyes, and she squeezed them tightly shut as she tried to gain some semblance of control. Taking a big, gulping breath, she murmured unsteadily, “Sorry. That — that’s never happened to me before. I’ve been overwhelmed by spirits and their energy, but that was chaotic. _Volatile_.”  

            He smiled grimly, looking pale and shaky as he told her, “’Volatile’ is one way to describe this wretched place.” He smoothed back the messy blonde waves that partially hid her face, reminding her in a hushed voice, “You don’t have to do this. I understand if it’s too much to ask.”

            Caroline was overcome with emotion; she knew what this meant to Klaus, and for him to set aside his personal feelings because he was worried about her was incredibly touching. But she couldn’t do that to him. _And she certainly couldn’t do it to Henrik_. Forcing herself back on her feet, she told him firmly, “No. I owe you and Henrik this.” She was proud of the way her voice no longer shook as she said, “Let’s go get your closure.”   

            The relief mixed with grim determination she found on his face somehow steadied her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled him across the threshold once more. The air was thick with mystical energy, making her choke, and suddenly she was caught up in a terrifying vision.

            _A child’s pitiful wails drew her attention to the dining room, and her heart sank as she caught a flash of pale blonde hair huddled in a ball underneath an enormous table of ornate wood and marble._

_A hulking man furiously knocked over several of the tall leather chairs that she’d been hiding behind, his bellows barely coherent in his rage. She looked on in horror as the man hurled a rollerblade skate at the cowering child’s belly, shouting, “No rollerblades in the house! You’ve ruined the European White Oak, you ungrateful child!”_

            Caroline clenched her jaw, willing away the disturbing images of Mikael beating one of his daughters. This had been Rebekah as a child, who today was still so afraid that she slept with a nightlight.

            “Sweetheart, what it is it,” Klaus asked her in concern.

            Blinking rapidly, she reminded herself that he wasn’t as sensitive to the dark energy in this house, and would only see the austere dining room furniture in the imposing dining room. It wouldn’t do any good for Klaus to relive what she was sure was just one of many violent beatings. _That wasn’t the memory they were there to retrieve_. Clearing her throat, she told him firmly, “There are higher laws than man’s. Mikael’s soul will be tortured for eternity.”

            Too many emotions flitted across his face, but he remained silent. _Sometimes there weren’t any words_. She reached out to the spiritual plane, trying to find Henrik, but there were still too many horrific memories in this house. _Not to mention the dark, angry voices_.

            The insidious snap of leather sliced the air, and a lump formed in her throat as she silently led him toward a small study off to the side. This time, she was better prepared when the image came to her, vivid and painful and this time, wearing a familiar face.

            _She knew those gray eyes_. _Despite the gangly limbs and features that he hadn’t quite grown into, she knew immediately that this was Klaus as a teenager, his youthful face contorting in pain and rage as he tried to stand up to Mikael. He managed to dodge the first few lashes of the belt, but Caroline let out an anguished gasp as the sharp crack beside his head made her realize that his father was trying to catch him with the heavy end of a buckle. The force behind the blows caused several stones along the fireplace behind him to crack, and even though she knew what she was seeing already had happened, she felt herself step forward as though she could stop it. She recoiled as she watched the sharp edge of the buckle slice open his cheek, causing the back of Klaus’ head to bang against the heavy stones of the fireplace._

Klaus suddenly walked in front of her, interrupting the awful vision as he approached the fireplace, his hand trembling as he touched the cracks in the stones. Clearly, he knew what vision she’d been shown, and her heart ached as she watched him stare blankly at the fireplace. She hugged him tightly, doing her best to soothe away his disquiet. It wasn’t clear how long they stood there in that room, feeling too much and saying too little.

            No matter how many times she used her gifts to help someone, it always shook her to the core. _Death was never really final_. Emotions always lingered, almost as though waiting for her to soak them in, and it wasn’t always clear if she was reading them or they were reading her. She could _feel_ the Mikaelsons’ home, the ugliness trying to work its way inside of her. There was fear and hate and a crippling need for vengeance that permeated the air until she all but choked on it. What this family had been through. _What Klaus had been through_.

            She pulled away slightly, placing a gentle kiss on one of his dimples. Neither of them spoke, but the look that passed between them spoke volumes. _There was something there_. Before she could consider what that meant, a fierce chill overtook her and she knew Henrik had returned. _It was time._

            With a careful squeeze of his hand, she guided him toward the grand staircase. She noticed they both kept their distance from the foot of the stairs. _Where Henrik’s body was found_. Her voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, “Klaus, I have to go up there now. But you don’t have to join me. I’ll be ok.”

            With considerable effort, he wrenched his gaze from the imposing mahogany and wrought iron to stare at her solemnly. “Together or not at all, sweetheart,” he told her with a grim determination.

            Caroline nodded, keeping his sweat-slicked hand in her tight grip as they slowly mounted the stairs. She hated the hollow sound of their footsteps, the certainty that she felt about how the emptiest houses were often the most alive. When they reached the top of the stairs, the stale air shifted, and she braced herself for what was about to happen.

            The small squeak of Henrik’s sneakers alerted her to his presence, and she caught a brief glimpse of his baby face before he faded away again. Then, another wave of fear hit her. _Henrik was terrified_. When the vision came, she did her best not to let Klaus sense the overwhelming feeling of dread that came over her. She focused on the energy Henrik shared with her, only giving Klaus the faintest squeeze of her hand to reassure him once more.

            Sunlight poured into the long hallway, the elaborate crystal and bronze sconces scattering tiny rainbows along the walls. But she wasn’t swayed by their cheerful appearance —dark things were here.

            _A bedroom door was slightly opened, Henrik’s fearful face barely visible through the crack. He was hiding in his room because he heard yelling and thought it was his father. She saw the instant that Henrik realized it was Elijah’s voice instead, and he pushed the door open a bit further in his curiosity as he registered a second voice. A girl’s voice._

_Frowning, Caroline tried to guide Henrik to show her who was arguing with Elijah, as it was clear from the boy’s confusion that it wasn’t one of his sisters. Unfortunately, he couldn’t show her what he hadn’t seen. She frantically sifted through Henrik’s jumbled memories, only certain words were audible from the angry voices at the top of the stairs — “broke your promise”, “liar”, and “hate you”._

Caroline pulled herself out of the memory, confused by what Henrik had tried to show her. _Someone else was there the day that he’d been murdered_.


	8. Like a Snarling Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Thank you for all of your support with my story (and your patience while I hosted the Klarosummer Bingo Event for the month of June — my drabbles have been posted to A Beautiful Symmetry.) 
> 
> Also, big news!!! My original work has been published on Amazon. It’s called Twice Burned. I’ve included the synopsis at the end of this chapter. Happy reading!
> 
> Warning: This one is dark; another intense chapter with mentions of violence and angst.

 

 

            _Pretty eyes but sad with tears like the hallway._ “I don’t understand,” Caroline gasped, temples throbbing as she tried to make sense of Henrik’s thoughts. She caught sight of the intricate crystal and bronze wall sconces along the hallway and nodded dumbly as things started to fall in place.

            “What did you see,” Klaus asked, his gray eyes full of worry.

            “Someone else was arguing with Elijah right before Henrik was killed. A girl, but someone Henrik didn’t know.” Before he could question her further, she was pulled back into Henrik’s memories.

_Long, dark curls swirled in an angry fan as the girl struggled with Elijah. Despite the fact that he was a lanky teenager, he easily was able to overpower her. Maybe it was his rage that fueled him. It settled within him like a snarling demon, making him almost unrecognizable. “You ruin everything, Katherine,” he seethed, violently shaking her._

_The girl managed to free one of her arms from his grasp, flailing wildly until her nails cut into his cheek. She hissed something in his ear, but Henrik’s memories couldn’t show her that part. She could feel the little boy’s terror as he watched Elijah give an unearthly shriek, backhanding the girl. One moment he was glaring down at her and the next, the girl was flying through the air, her limbs tangling with the wrought iron until it created a deafening noise that echoed throughout the house._

_Henrik’s memories were constrained by his innocence, and although he was frightened by what he’d seen, childish thoughts clouded his mind — his brother was playing a game with the girl — like how his siblings would push him on the swings in the park. He waited for the girl to run up the stairs, laughing at their game._

_Watching from the crack at his bedroom door, too many moments of awful silence passed, and he couldn’t help the small whimpers that escaped. Suddenly, Elijah stood in front of him, hands yanking him into the hallway. Caroline’s head spun from the sharp movement, but all she could see was Elijah’s face. His perfectly blank, emotionless face. She felt Henrik’s confusion and fear as his brother wordlessly dragged him toward the stairs._

_It was a mournful, hopeless sound his sneakers made as they squeaked against the wooden floor. There was a moment when Elijah paused, and Caroline’s heart broke as she felt Henrik’s sliver of hope that his brother was playing a prank. The last sensation Henrik sent her was a terrible pain along his neck._

Caroline gasped, choking on a scream as she ripped herself out of Henrik’s final memory. _Fear. Pain. Anger_. The chaotic, destructive emotions vibrated throughout her body, making her head pound as she fought to stay upright. “It’s worse than what I’d imagined.”

            Klaus’ voice was tight with emotion as he nodded tersely. “You saw Elijah...and what happened to Henrik.”

            She quickly wiped away tears, staring at her hand in confusion. When had she started crying again? _Why did this never get easier?_ A terrible reality of her gift was that just when she thought she’d experienced the worst humanity had to offer, she’d discover a new evil that threatened to scar her soul and leave her hollow. “Henrik saw Elijah and Katherine fighting on the stairs.” She wished there was a way to soften this somehow, to not have to tell Klaus the dark things about Elijah that he already knew in his heart to be true. Shaking her head, she told him, “He hit her and threw her down the stairs.”

            “Katherine,” he whispered in shock, “she was the girl that Elijah was seeing before our father found out and beat him soundly for shaming the Mikaelson name with a girl from what he considered to be an inferior family. He never talked about her again.” His tone grew dark as he spat, “And now we know why.”

            As Klaus turned away from her to stare blankly down the stairs, Caroline could feel his nervous hesitation. _He knew what was coming next_. “Henrik,” she began roughly, “Elijah broke his neck before he threw him down the stairs.” She was in agony as she watched Klaus squeeze his eyes shut, cheeks damp as he rested his forehead against hers in defeat. He was grieving all over again for his brother, forced to relive his death.

            _She understood that sometimes the greatest gift you can give is to tell the best lie you can._ “Henrik didn’t realize what was happening. It was quick and he didn’t suffer.”

            He trembled against her as she held him, burying his face into her hair as he silently wept. It was a moment she’d had countless times before; providing comfort as they experienced the same loss again. It was painful to bear, but she’d also come to understand it was a necessary step to help them heal.

            “What do we do now,” he asked, voice muffled against her messy waves.

            She pulled back slightly, unsure of what to say. Her thoughts were racing, trying to understand everything they’d learned from Henrik’s memories. She reached out with her gift to see if Henrik could offer further guidance, but couldn’t locate him on the spiritual plane. It was understandable — having to relive the trauma of his murder took a lot of energy. The boy would manifest again, but it would be difficult to predict when. “Elijah needs to pay for what he’s done,” she finally said, hating how he immediately tensed at her words. _Did he still not see the evil in Elijah?_

As though he’d read her mind, he said, “I know Elijah has done terrible things.” He held her once more, as though finding reassurance through her embrace. “But I also know how the justice system works, sweetheart. I need evidence to bring against my brother. Otherwise, all of this pain is for nothing.”

            At her nod of understanding, he hesitantly asked, “Was Henrik able to show you what happened after Katherine...once she was at the bottom of the stairs?”

            Caroline bowed her head, understanding what Klaus was asking. _Did Elijah kill Katherine?_ She shook her head, telling him, “Henrik only could show me what he’d seen. Anything that happened after, he either was too afraid to show me or he was too young to understand.”

            Clearing his throat, he ran his fingers through his disheveled curls. “Then we need to locate Katherine. If she’s alive, we need to convince her to come forward with what she knows. If she’s dead, we need to find a way to convince a judge to have her exhumed. It at least would be a start to build a case against Elijah.”

            She bit her lip, not wanting to hurt him, but realizing that now was as good a time as any to ask. “What about Henrik? His body, I mean. Now that you know the truth, could we have his remains re-examined?”

            “He was cremated. Our father insisted on it.” He chuckled darkly, “At the time, it only further damned him in our eyes. It was easy to assume he’d killed Henrik, given what kind of man he was.” He blinked rapidly, a hitch to his voice as he asked, “Could we get of here? There’s just too many ghosts.”

            She gave him a sad smile, appreciating his need to find humor in this awful situation. Squeezing his hand reassuringly, she started to lead him down the stairs. They only made it a few steps when suddenly she cried out in pain, curling her body into a protective ball as she rode out the excruciating wave of spiritual energy. It was too much. _The blackest rage. Overwhelming fear and despair_.

            As she looked up into Klaus’ alarmed gaze, she managed to choke out, “The attic. Something is wrong in the attic.”       

 

 

* * *

 

            As I mentioned earlier, my original work has been published on Amazon. It’s called _Twice Burned_. Here’s the synopsis:

 _“I’ve been burned as a witch before. It didn’t stick, obviously.”_ As one of the most respected and powerful voodoo priestesses in New Orleans, Susannah had weathered a long, stormy existence over her two centuries, and wasn’t about to let something as inconsequential as being burned at the stake get her down. Besides, she was far too busy being an elementary school teacher, ignoring the advances of an overconfident werewolf, and harnessing the forces of voodoo loa to protect the innocent — just the typical hassles of everyday life in the volatile, supernatural hotspot of New Orleans.   

            And then there’s Nashóba, the alpha pack leader of the Choctaw wolf clan — also known as the _overconfident werewolf who has no problem mixing business with a little pleasure_. He initially approaches Susannah to form an alliance against a mysterious dark force. While trying to protect his sister who is next in line to be medicine woman and fighting creatures of Choctaw folklore, he still finds the time to try to seduce the argumentative, passionate voodoo priestess who’s caught his eye.

            Together, they’ll unravel the mystery behind the dark force, in between exploring an intriguing blues club underneath the Mississippi, a hidden werewolf village and torturing enemies conveniently locked away in invisible rooms. Nash may have initially offered Susannah a taste of real power, but he’ll soon learn that it pales in comparison to the power of her loyalty and above all, her heart.


	9. It Wanted Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Disturbing imagery

            _The sinister creaking of the wooden floor_. _Dust choking the air_. Unlike the rest of the mansion, the Mikaelsons’ cleaning service clearly hadn’t ventured into the attic for decades. _Because they’d been instructed to stay away?_ Caroline glanced at Klaus, shocked that even he couldn’t pick up on the intensity of the psychic energy. _Ignorance really was bliss_. Her bones vibrated from its power, and she still felt slightly woozy from Henrik’s terrifying visions.

            Klaus’ jaw twitched, barely holding his emotions in check as he squeezed her hand. “Is Henrik...I mean, is he leading us right now?”

            She picked up on his broken tone, and her heart went out to him as she realized how all of this must be a terrible, new kind of heartbreak for him. _This nightmarish house he probably thought he’d never return to, the restless spirit of his cherished little brother, and the looming knowledge that his honorable big brother was actually a heartless murderer_. “No, Henrik’s never come here. He’s afraid of this place,” she replied softly, shivering slightly as she felt that same unsettling feeling from before.

            He seemed to consider her words carefully, finally telling her, “I’m not sure why he would be. To my knowledge, nothing happened in the attic. Mikael preferred to wield his power over us in more public spaces in this house.” Shaking his head bitterly, he added, “No reason to hide shameful behavior when one isn’t ashamed.”

            “Christ,” she muttered, “there isn’t enough sorry in the world for what you went through.” She started to say more, but the words caught in her throat as she felt the familiar tug in her gut that reminded her that something was _off_. 

            “All right, love,” Klaus asked cautiously, voice brimming with worry.

            At first, she didn’t register his question, too busy scanning the space crammed full of antique steamer trunks, moldy boxes, and broken furniture. _Where was it?_ Something in this attic wanted to be found. _It wanted out_. She stumbled into an antique sewing machine table, barking her shin against the heavy cast iron base. The loud clang of the metal in the too-quiet attic somehow was more jarring than the throbbing pain in her leg. “Damn it,” she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper as she leaned against Klaus’ arms while he helped her stay upright.

            He wordlessly patted her down, the warmth of his touch soothing her frayed nerves. “I’m fine,” she told him gently, appreciating the look of concern she saw as he studied her face. She wasn’t sure what reaction he was looking for, but he must have found it because she felt some of the tension leave his body.

            While the attic seemed to run most of the length of the main house, it felt cramped with the various decades of old furniture and boxes and other junk so dilapidated it was difficult to determine what it had been. _Not to mention the disturbing way the air felt heavy with something she couldn’t identify_. Even darker than what she picked up in the rest of the house. _How was that possible?_

            It was the tall headboard that kept drawing Caroline’s attention. Eyes narrowed, she stepped closer, cautiously resting one palm on the gaudy carved walnut. _No, it was the wall behind it_. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by the same visceral feelings of fear and anger and sadness as before. Taking a shaky breath, she said, “It’s them. They’ve been forgotten and they’re furious.”

            She cautiously felt along the dusty red cedar, lightly tapping in a few areas before she explained, “We need to remove some of these planks. I think this is a false wall.”

            Klaus wordlessly glanced around the crowded area, reaching in a shadowy corner to grasp two wrought iron fireplace tools. Handing her one, they set to work, the sounds of creaking, splintered wood filling the air. Two boards clattered to the floor, bringing with it a musty, sour odor that Caroline immediately gasped as she recognized it. From the disgusted look on Klaus’ face, it appeared that he knew what it was as well. When they removed another board, they took a step back, shocked as the horrible truth settled over them.

            Long, dark strands of hair were sparsely attached to the shriveled corpse. Limbs were bent at unnatural angles and the neck was grotesquely wrenched to one side. _They had found Katherine_.

            Caroline couldn’t look away from the vacant sockets that eerily brimmed with dark knowledge. And suddenly, she was plunged into Katherine’s final memories.

_“I told you we were done,” Elijah growled when he saw Katherine at the door._

_She boldly shoved past him, stomping into the house with him racing after her. “Yeah, well, you stopped answering your phone, so this is your own damn fault. Dick.”_

_“Get out!”_

_Her harsh, bitter laugh made him back up warily. “I’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to be in your fancy house?” As he sputtered and turned beet red, she threw up her arms and shrieked, “I’m not leaving until you listen to me! So, I’ll just go upstairs and then there’s no chance anyone will see your whore.”_

_Caroline admired the girl’s spirit_ _— it was clear that despite Elijah having already ended things with her, she refused to be cast aside without saying her peace. Unfortunately, it was about to get her killed._

_Elijah ran up the stairs after her, roughly grabbing at her arms when they reached the landing. “I told you I’m done. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”_

_“Because you’re a loser who won’t stand up to his asshole father. You said we’d always be together; that we’d leave here one day. You broke your promise. Fucking liar!”_

_He scoffed, hissing, “You know nothing of me or my family. I have responsibilities and expectations that you can’t begin to imagine.”_

_“Responsibilities?! You want responsibilities?!” Despite the tears in her eyes, she venomously told him, “I’m pregnant, Elijah! That’s what I needed to tell you!”_

_Dark eyes widened in alarm and then narrowed to furious slits as he snarled, “You ruin everything, Katherine.” Violently shaking her, he seethed, “I’m going to college and law school and eventually politics. The Mikaelson name will not be tarnished by a meaningless shag.”_

_“I hate you!” Katherine screeched, freeing one of her arms from his punishing grip, slicing into his cheek with her nails._

_Caroline quickly looked away, knowing what happened next. Elijah’s furious bellow. The unforgiving sound of him hitting Katherine. The hopeless noise of her limbs slamming against the iron railing. And then, Caroline felt a surge of terrible sensations as she experienced Katherine’s death. The cruel weight of Elijah’s hands as he flung the girl down the stairs. Her horror of the boy she’d grown to love. The sharp, jarring pain as her body crashed into the stairs. And her final, terror-filled moment as her neck snapped._

The shock of pulling herself out of Katherine’s dark memories made her gasp. She realized Klaus had moved her away from the corpse, gently rocking her as they sat on a moth-eaten piano bench. “Klaus,” she helplessly croaked, burying her head against his chest as she cried.

            Klaus murmured soothing words in her ear, holding her as she let everything out. When her sobs finally subsided, he shakily asked, “You said _them_. That _they_ had been forgotten and were furious.”

She didn’t want to tell him. And certainly not in such a terrible place. The vile energy in the mansion raised everything ugly inside of her, stripped her bare and left her with a gnawing ache. But she had no choice — it was the price she paid for her gift. She finally said, “We’ve found Katherine.” At Klaus’ solemn nod, she haltingly explained, “She came here to tell him... that...she was pregnant. He killed her because he said she’d ruin his future.”

“And clearly I was right to do so. It appears that trollop couldn’t be silenced, even in death,” Elijah coldly stated, stepping into the attic as he pointed a gun at them. 


End file.
